Chapter 108
South Carolina, 1984
Dan Mitchell felt uncomfortable in the small overly neat room, for it reminded him of a time in his life he’d just as soon forget—his own school years. Now he regretted he hadn’t met them at his hotel; but he hadn’t wanted to overplay the hand. Give them cause to recognize their importance, he thought to himself and grinned, and they’ll be strutting and warbling like the young bantam rosters they are.
Though well aware of the identity of the youths, he said to the larger blond one, “Your relationship to the colonel?
“Brother—half anyway.” Matthew Reed’s open smile appealed to Mitchell and seemed to contradict the truth of the explanation. “That’s why Ollie’s British and I’m a no good Yank. He had Dad to himself till he was sixteen; wasn’t too thrilled when my mom came into the picture, but he tolerates me.”
“So that makes you, Philip Caine?” Wasn’t a question only an observation of the young man poised in an in-flight position near the door. “I’m told you boys have some information for me?”
“That prick, Connors.” Caine started only to be halted by Reed’s waving hand.
“Inspector,” Reed said, “you need to locate Deirdre O’Neill? Ollie told me you have to do it without causing a stink. We think we know how she can be had.”
“Okay.”
“One other thing, the deal is we go with you.”
“What the hell for?”
“Connors. We didn’t fall for that kidnapping bull. He set the game up himself so when he surfaces, he’ll be a little tin hero.”
“That’s right.” Caine growled. “You get your hands on Dede; while you’re getting answers so will we.”
Brought a sharp laugh. “You know how many man hours your government is spending on the search for Connors?”
“None!”
“None. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“None!” Caine said again.
“How do you know that?”
“My old man’s internal security. Them guys don’t shop talk much, but from what he told me Mr. President Elect won’t accept that his kid’s dead. That TV bullshit was just to play it safe so the voters wouldn’t think he was in a usable predicament. He’s so fucking scared of what they’ll do to the piss-head; he won’t let anyone make a move. The joke is, his little bastard is laughing right through his teeth.”
“You got a hard-on for the Connors boy?”
“You know it!” Caine continued. “If he hadn’t been the big man’s brat, his ass would have been bounced out of here the first week. Instead they set us up as baby-sitters.”
“Must have been a reason?”
Matthew Reed’s hand on his friend’s arm halted a fresh outburst. “We brought it on ourselves,” he admitted. “We gave the kid a rough time. The Top got wind of it when the kid took off the first time. We could have been tossed. The only thing that saved our careers was John Connors’ fear of the negative publicity. So we were sent to bring Jason back—then we were supposed to keep him here.”
Mitchell grinned at the seriousness in the young faces. “You boys played detective once. You think you can do it again?”
“First time was a cinch,” Reed said. “He used his own car. Troopers had him under surveillance right to the motel door. All we did was collect him.”
“So? Why would he pull a second walkout? Things must have been easy for him after that?”
“Wrong!” Caine said. “We kept on his tail but good!”
“You what?”
“We didn’t bottle feed and diaper him.” Caine’s tone was nasty. “Hell we had him so fucked out; he didn’t have energy to run.”
“But he did.” Mitchell reminded. “Or so you think?”
“He had outside help. That much we’re certain of.” Reed went on to explain about the weekend, the O’Neill girls, and finished with, “They cooked up the kidnapping.”
Knowing the youngsters involved Dan Mitchell could easily accept the young men’s theory. That logic was re-enforced by Reed’s statement. “Fitzgerald is taking this whole thing too calmly. He’s the kind who’d take a bullet for his cousin. He knows nobody grabbed Jas.”
“And you know where the O’Neill girl is?”
“A good bet we can find her.” Reed offered. “Only we go with you.”
“Look,” the man protested, “if she has any information…”
Was stopped by Caine’s, “Our way or no help.”
What the hell, Mitchell decided, it wasn’t like he was going after adults. “I let you come.” He warned, “You follow my orders or so help me I’ll handcuff and muzzle you. Now, what have you got?”
“T Town for starters.”
“What’s that?”
“A place in New Mexico.” Reed picked up on the explanation. “Night before last, Fitzgerald placed a call to Tucumcari, New Mexico. I think he spoke to Dede. It just happened it was the same night Ollie called to wish me a happy birthday. While we were talking about your problem I remembered something. When Connors took his first hike, he had a map in his car; his route, conveniently highlighted, ended in New Mexico.”
“The Connors’ have a ranch there?”
“Right.” Reed spread the saved document on his bed. “Near Clovis better than eighty miles from this point.” He indicated a marked X on Jason’s old map. Then he extracted several envelopes from his desk drawer. “Fitzgerald never saw these.” He waved Deirdre’s letters. “She’s pretty careful what she says. Suppose to head for T Town Thanksgiving break. She wanted Fitzgerald to join her there. So that phone call could mean she left a little early.”
Glancing up from sifting through the undelivered mail, Mitchell remarked, “You make a good case. Is Dede in Tucumcari alone?”
“Alone, hell.” Caine snickered. “She’s shacked up with some Irish prick—sorry Matt.”
~~~
New Mexico, 1984
They’d taken a direct flight to Amarillo, Texas. Rented a car at the airport and then made the hundred and ten miles drive into Tucumcari in just under an hour. There was no traffic on the desert highway and no stoplights. The New York State Police provided the Texas Rangers, who supplied the English inspector, with the license number and description of Deirdre’s car, with the added location of her motel. So they set up their surveillance before she left the motel that morning.
“Pull back and off the road.” Dan Mitchell ordered when he saw the car ahead slowing apparently read to stop.
Switching to reverse, Matthew Reed swung the wheel, felt the suction of the soft desert sand at the tires and warned, “We could bog down in this stuff.”
The inspector chuckled. “Got you two healthy lads to push it out.”
They watched as Sean O’Donnell bent to retrieve picnic supplies from the rear seat of the Porsche and as the girl playfully kneed him in the butt. She ran as he gave chase with everything forgotten but the six pack in his hand.
Deirdre kept well in advance of the stumbling youth. Now and then she paused to call out a nasty jeer to quicken Sean’s stride.
Just far enough back to be out of sight behind a rocky outcropping, Reed killed the engine. “Now what?”
“We wait.” Mitchell stretched across the rear seat and closed his eyes against the sun.
“We just sit here?” Caine yelped. “We waited all day to get them alone; on top of that ant hill they’re cornered.”
“We don’t know that.” Mitchell didn’t bother to open his eyes. “There could be other trails down and Dede would know. One of you can puncture their tires, do a front and rear. You two take turns staking out the trail, stay out of sight. You should be able to hear them coming a mile off. Wake me then.”
~~~
The moonlight was rapidly replacing sunlight when Reed’s touch brought Mitchell upright with the demand. “They’re coming.”
“No! Christ! They’ve been up there for hours what in hell are they doing?”
“Lad,” was followed with a sharp laugh. “You have to ask that you’re in big trouble.” Ignoring the young man’s scowl Mitchell slipped from the car to stretch his cramped frame. “Without the sun it will start getting chilly up there. It should drive them down soon.”
As they started to move a short way up the trail, Caine joined them and offered, “You go for the girl, Matt?”
But Mitchell corrected. “Matt waits here.” He pointed to a boulder. “Park it. If they get by us, forget Sean, go for Dede.”
Desert darkness closed in quickly, and Mitchell made a mental note that they were lucky their prey was fair skinned and light haired. The jeans wear could make the rest of them nearly invisible. He and Caine moved further up the trail. Suddenly they were brought up short by the sound of laughter. One to each side they stepped off the trail to wait.
Playfully kicked from above, rocks rolled down accompanied by Deirdre’s singing.
She threw something. It rolled to a crashing halt inches from Caine’s foot. He hit the dirt as another followed.
Sean yelled. “Cut it out Dee! Somebody could get hurt they step on those broken bottles.”
“Not likely.” She laughed and tossed another. “With the snakes around here only an idiot wouldn’t wear boots.”
The three males waiting in silence glanced nervously down at their loafer-clad feet, as Sean squealed. “Snakes! We were laying there bare-ass—”
The two teens had come abreast of the predators. Sean’s words died as Mitchell’s arm came around his neck. Snapping the boy’s head back, the inspector’s grip closed on Sean’s right wrist wrenching his arm up as his knee drove into the boy’s spine.
Caine foolishly grabbed Deirdre’s upper arms attempting to pin them to her sides. She reacted quickly. Falling forward she left him supporting her weight while she brought her foot up. The heel of the western boot imprinted a nasty brand on her captor’s shin. “Son of a bitch!” He struggled to maintain his hold as she pulled back. A perfect height, the tall female threw her head back smashing the male full on the nose. She was free. Then he tackled her. She landed beneath his heavier body with a scream that turned into a tortured howl before she went limp and silent.
The girl’s scream had brought Matthew Reed tearing up the trail. He shoved his friend off as he dropped beside the still form accusing, “What did you do to her?”
“Do to her? The bitch!” Caine lifted a hand to finger his bleeding nose. But this pain was forgotten as Reed turned the girl over on her back. Even in the weak moonlight, thick blood could be seen bubbling out from a crevice of pink meat running along the edge of her face. The front of the pale blue shirt was turning a soggy brown from gore welling up beneath. Deirdre O’Neill had fallen victim to her own broken bottles.
The sight brought a, “God damn!” from Mitchell who then ordered, “Phil, cuff this kid.” He retained his hold on the struggling youth while Caine affixed the restraints. “Take him down to the car.” Caine dug his fingers into Sean’s arm dragging the protesting youth away.
Mitchell dropped beside Reed to investigate the damage done to Deirdre.
“What now?” Matt asked.
“We carry her down. Get her legs.” Mitchell slipped his own hands under to brace her shoulders.
“She needs a doctor.”
“Sure, I suppose we’re going to prance into the local hospital. They’ll fix her up, no questions then we load her up and go on our merry way. This is serious business Matt. Your government frowns on foreigners abducting their citizens—even in a good cause.”
“She could die?”
“Hope not. Shame to have wasted all this time?”
“Bastard!”
“Maybe, Matt, but there’s a lot more at stake than one teenage girl.”
“Shouldn’t we take the glass out?”
“No. Pull it out now she’ll bleed worse. We’ll wait till we have better light.”
Matthew Reed was being too careful. It was a slow process carrying the girl down and all Mitchell’s verbal prodding couldn’t get the frightened youth to move faster.
The inspector wasn’t in the best of humor as they reached the car. “Stupid asshole!” He bellowed at Caine. “Why in hell did you spread him across the hood? What if someone drove by? You dumb kid. You’re not legitimate law!”
Coloring under the abuse, Caine yanked his prisoner upright and tried to force him into the rear seat. Though it cost him punishment from Caine’s fists, Sean refused to cooperate.
Guessing Sean’s belligerence was caused by his concern for the girl, Mitchell said, “Behave. We didn’t hurt her. She fell on her own damn bottles. Now get your ass in the car so we can get her some help.” This gained him reluctant obedience and they eased Deirdre in across the male prisoner’s lap.
Mitchell slipped behind the wheel and threw the car in gear, his two young comrades putting their backs into pushing. The wheels spun, the sand stung their faces, and sweat soaked their clothing before the vehicle bucked onto the road. Reed slipped in the rear to maintain a stable ride for the injured girl while Caine jumped in front.
~~~
The lights of the small city of Tucumcari blazed like a metropolis in the pitch darkness of a desert night as the car raced down Route 66. Just before the bypass the car turned left on to a side road then on to a main highway headed north. As the city lights faded behind them three young faces took on questioning frowns.
“Where are you going?” Caine asked.
“Clovis?” Reed had spotted the sign and guessed.
“Only so many places one can set down an unauthorized jet. Remember there is someone just as concerned for Jason as you are,” Mitchell said. “So no stupid slip up causes harm to the lad, you two are going to spend your holiday at the expense of the Crown. Sorry, Sean, but I’m afraid you’re going to be our unwilling guest too.”
“You’re headed for the Connors’ ranch?” Reed said, followed by the protest. “That’s eighty miles, Dede could die.”
“She’s bleeding bad.” Sean added his own concern.
“Easy lads.” Mitchell answered. “I’m not as heartless as you think. Facial wounds always bleed bad and look nasty. The chest wound is deep but not life threatening. The shot I gave her will keep under and quiet for hours so no greater damage is done. We’ll be at the ranch in less than sixty minutes.”